


Honeysuckle

by owly



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 90's AU, Alternate Universe - 1990s, M/M, Rating will go up, Summer, Summer Romance, characters and tags to be added, photography nerd johnny, taeyong is a soft flower boy, this is a self indulgent soft summer fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-05-23 08:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14930727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owly/pseuds/owly
Summary: Taeyong goes out looking for flowers to pick, and finds Johnny instead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> here we go, lads

**1.**

 

There’s something about the transition between spring and summer that Taeyong just loves. It’s the subtle rise in temperature that envelops him like a warm hug when he goes outside. It’s the prolonged hours of sunlight in the day that always makes them feel a little longer, like he’s got all the time in the world. But most importantly, it’s about the ever-growing, ever-changing array of flowers and plants that erupt amongst the hedges and fields with the extra sunlight they’re given.

Taeyong’s always been interested in nature, particularly in flora – ever since he was little he’d always find happiness in all the pretty colours and shapes of the wildflowers that would appear in his local park in the spring and summer months. Every year he would wish that the autumn would never come, that the flowers would never die; their colourful leaves and petals forever swaying softly in the summer breeze.

When he was about five, he picked a couple of flowers he thought were _so_ pretty from his garden, filled up one of his plastic cups with water and put them on the windowsill in his room. With his five-year-old logic he figured that if his flowers always had plenty of water in the vase and sunlight from the window, kept inside and away from harm, surely they would live forever.

Since then he’s learnt of better ways to preserve them; has made a hobby out of spring and summer walks to pick and collect flowers, either to keep in vases, hang up to dry in his room or press between the pages of between poetry books.

Today he’s on one of those walks, in that special transitional period as spring edges into summer.

His family moved from the city to this small, rural town a few years ago, and Taeyong’s still getting to know all the hidden side streets and back lanes, often ending up on rarely-travelled countryside paths surrounded by shades of green and splashes of colourful blossoms.

He lets himself wander, feet taking him down a route he’s never ventured down before and ends up off the beaten track on a narrow, overgrown footpath that’s full of colour and flora he hasn’t seen anywhere else. He picks a couple of the last remaining bluebells, wanting to preserve them before their flowering period ends in late May. There are a few plants he doesn’t recognise, so he picks them, carefully placing them in the small woven basket he’s brought with him.

It’s peaceful, surrounded only by the sounds of birdsong and the occasional breeze, far from any roads or traffic. 

So it surprises Taeyong when he realises he’s not alone, as he rounds a corner in the path and spots another guy around his age a little further up the trail. Taeyong wonders what he’s doing for a moment, then makes out the small camera in his hands, taking pictures of the very same flowers.

Taeyong smiles to himself. It’s not that often he meets other guys his age who share his interests - most of them dismiss it as girly or ‘ _kind gay, dude’_ \- so it puts a little warmth in his chest to see one appreciating nature as much as he does.

Taeyong continues searching the hedges for pretty flowers and picking a handful more, eyes flickering over to the other boy every now and then as he gets nearer to him. He doesn’t want to bother him, and he’s not too good with making conversation anyway, but he’s intrigued.

Luckily the boy notices Taeyong in between photos, pausing as he changes the film in his camera.

“Nice flowers,” he comments with a smile, nodding to Taeyong’s basket. His eyes are squinted against the sun, although Taeyong notices a pair of aviators resting on his head.

“Thanks,” Taeyong says, brushing a stray hair out of his eyes and glancing down at the boy’s camera. “Are you a photographer?” He’s met with a small chuckle.

“I wish I was.”

The conversation somehow flows from there – this guy is surprisingly easy to talk to. It turns out the guy’s name is Johnny, and he’s a film student with a flair for amateur photography. Johnny grew up in the area before he left for a university in the city, and is back to visit his family for the summer. Taeyong tells him how he wishes he grew up in a place as beautiful as this, how his family only moved here a couple years ago and he’d taken every sunny day as a chance to explore the scenery and wildlife.

“Are you an art student?” Johnny asks, genuine curiosity sparking in his eyes that comforts Taeyong.

“Yeah, fine art. How could you tell?”

“Only grunge kids and art students have hair as cool as yours. And you don’t seem like the grunge type.”

Taeyong smiles coyly down at his flowers.

“You never know. Maybe I like flower pressing _and_ Nirvana,” he grins.

Ever since he was free of any school rules to prohibit it, he’d started dyeing his hair to match the colourful surroundings of nature that he spent so much time immersed in. People would tell him the colours were _unnatural_ and he’d roll his eyes, smile to himself as he picked bluebells and violets and marigolds. He’d dyed it pink not too long ago, inspired by the sudden flowering of fuchsias across the town’s gardens. But the colour has since faded almost completely, leaving it a bleach blond with a faint pink tint more akin to a dusky rose.

Johnny smiles too, running a hand through his own hair, floppy and chestnut-brown.

“Flower pressing? That’s pretty dope though.” Taeyong snickers, not sure if he’s ever heard the words ‘flower pressing’ and ‘dope’ in the same phrase before.

“Oh yeah. Totally dope.” He never really uses these kinds of words, and they sound kind of awkward leaving his mouth. Johnny catches onto the oddness though, and a small laugh escapes his lips, eyes bright and full of sunshine as they meet Taeyong’s.

“Hey, uh, would you mind if I took some pictures of you?” Johnny asks, gesturing to his camera. “Like, with the flowers and stuff. I just think it’d make a really nice shot.” His eyes are hopeful, and Taeyong knows he must look flustered. It’s a mix of shy nervousness and the flattery that fills his chest as he thinks about how Johnny has barely known him for half an hour and decides he likes him enough to have him in his photographs. Thinks he’s _pretty_ enough. (He knows that’s not the word that Johnny uses, but he indulges himself for a moment.)

“I can take some polaroids, too. So you can keep them.”

Taeyong says yes.

He’s worried he has no idea how to pose or behave when Johnny points his camera at him, but Johnny guides him through every shot, telling him where to move or which way to face, sometimes nudging Taeyong in the right direction with a gentle touch to his shoulder.

It’s a kind of energy Taeyong’s never felt before, as he’s surrounded by an abundance of the blooms he loves, nothing but faint birdsong filling the silence in between the sounds of Johnny’s camera shutter clicking. It’s unfamiliar, yet at the same time so comforting, and he decides he doesn’t quite mind basking in it.

Taeyong looks at the photos Johnny’s taken and sees this boy really must be gifted in the way he captures things  - it’s all so cohesive, the delicate intricacy of the flowers, their ranging hues and saturations of colour, the way the sunlight filters through the trees and highlights certain spots.

Taeyong can’t quite pinpoint why, but the way Johnny captures him is almost enough to make him blush. Maybe it’s to do with how soft and dainty he looks amongst the flora, as if he belongs there, budding flowers obscuring his fingertips, the light breeze blowing his hair the same way it does the long blades of grass.

There’s a closeup of Taeyong’s face, eyes partially obscured by strands of hair and cow parsley blossoms, a stray patch of sunlight perfectly placed over one of his cheekbones. It’s strange, a way he’s never seen himself before, but he likes it.

“You made me look so pretty,” he comments quietly, thumb rubbing over the corner of the polaroid. Johnny’s lips tug at a smile as he shrugs a shoulder.

“I just try to capture things how they really are.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

Johnny reaches into his camera bag and pulls out a marker, scribbling on the back of one of the polaroids he’s still holding and handing it to Taeyong.

“If you ever want me to make you look pretty again,” he smiles softly, and Taeyong _does_ blush when he sees Johnny’s name and number written across the back of the photo.

“Maybe I’ll sell it for millions when you get famous,” he says, fingertips toying at the edges of the picture, careful not to accidentally smudge any of the numbers written in fresh ink.

The gesture is so sweet it’s kind of funny – Taeyong’s used to only getting guys’ numbers in badly-lit clubs in the city, on the backs of crumpled up wrappers or scrawled unintelligibly on his arm. And even those times are very few. It’s no big deal, it fills him with warmth to have someone putting genuine thought behind it for once.

But he can’t assume what kind of intentions Johnny has behind it. He might just be being kind, looking for subjects to photograph; looking for friendship.

(But it doesn’t affect the fact that Johnny is pretty cute, and the way he interacts with Taeyong makes his chest feel as full of sunshine as the sky above him.)

Johnny offers Taeyong a chance to take a few pictures, and he’s hesitant, but Johnny shows him how easy it is and he snaps a few of his favourite flowers. He insists it’s only fair if he takes a couple of photos of Johnny – they’re a little out of focus, but it’s got a certain charm to it, and Taeyong writes his number on the back of one, too.

They walk the rest of the path together, until they reach a road that Taeyong can recognise and they have to go their separate ways. Johnny parts with a smile and a ‘ _see you around’,_ and Taeyong watches for a few moments as he turns and walks away, suddenly remembering the presence of his sunglasses on his head and pulling them down over his eyes.

Yeah, Taeyong thinks as he glances down at his basket full of wildflowers and polaroids, there’s something special about this time of year.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay tuned for more softness. i'm writing this as i go along so any suggestions are appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

 

“You should call him,” Kun says as they hang out in Taeyong’s garden, a couple days later. Kun’s lying on his back as he reads some complicated book about theoretical physics (Taeyong still doesn’t understand how he can read that stuff for fun), every now and then pausing to stare up at the clouds.

Taeyong’s sitting next to him, cross-legged on the grass, sketchbook in his hands as he doodles what he sees around the garden. His eyes flit over to Kun as he speaks, and the other boy doesn’t miss the slight pout Taeyong gives him in response.

“He likes you. I doubt he’d give you his number otherwise.” He gently swats away a fly buzzing around his head. “He’s probably as nervous as you are.”

“I _will_ call him,” Taeyong says, voice not entirely confident as if he’s only just admitting it to himself. “I just wanted to…y’know, give it a few days so I didn’t seem desperate or something.” He looks down and picks at the grass as he talks, rolling the thin blades between his fingertips.

“You need to _chill,_ Yong,” he says with a smile, reaches up to ruffle Taeyong’s hair. Kun may be a little younger than him, but he always proves himself to be the more responsible and wise one out of the two of them, so Taeyong doesn’t mind being babied by him every now and then.

He’s grateful that he has someone like Kun in his neighbourhood, who seems to understand him perfectly despite their obvious differences. Ever since he met him at one of the town’s summer carnivals a couple years ago, reading a ridiculously advanced scientific book on a bench under the shade of an oak tree, Kun has always been there to advise him on any problems and keep him sane.

Taeyong tends to over-worry about things to the point of paranoia. Kun has quickly learnt to spot the signs, and distracts Taeyong when he starts biting his nails and staring blankly into space with an unfocused gaze. It helps that he only lives a couple streets away – the number of times Taeyong has knocked on his front door in the early evening asking if he can stay the night with him is more than he can count.

Taeyong giggles softly as he brushes his hair back into place with his fingers. He probably should chill _._ He trusts Kun. Trusts him so much that five months ago, after an awkward encounter he had with a girl whilst caught under a sprig of mistletoe hanging in a doorway, he told him something he hadn’t told anyone else. Sure, it probably seems kind of obvious, but it felt special, brought them closer as Taeyong shared a thick winter blanket with Kun and told him he liked boys.

“I am chill. _So_ chill.” He uncrosses his legs and stretches them out in front of him, lays his sketchbook on the grass for a moment and leans back on his hands. “Did I mention he said that flower pressing was _dope_?”

Kun tells him that yes, he did, but laughs anyway.

“He sure sounds like a catch.” Taeyong chuckles under his breath and playfully nudges Kun’s side with his knee.

“Really though,” he continues, eyes sincere and warm as they glint in the sunlight, “I’m happy you’ve met someone new. I didn’t want you to spend the whole summer going stir crazy spending every day in this boring little town with the same people.”

“You mean you’re happy I won’t be bothering you as much?”

“Yeah, since your presence is so clearly a burden,” he jokes, tugs at Taeyong’s arm so he flops down flat on the grass next to him. They stay like that for a while, Taeyong’s gaze lost amongst the bushes and trees and sky, Kun picking his book back up and reading keenly.

He feels Taeyong shift next to him, hands going between picking at the grass and twisting in the fabric of his t-shirt. Kun barely has to look at him to know he’s chewing on his lip, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“You deserve him, Yong,” he says, not taking his eyes off his book. He wraps a reassuring hand around his wrist, squeezing gently. “Quit worrying.”

 

-

 

Maybe it’s fate, or maybe there’s just something reassuring in the cool early summer air that night, that prompts Johnny to call him at around eight p.m.

Taeyong is slightly embarrassed about the nervous excitement that runs through him when the house phone rings and his mother calls out to tell him there’s a boy on the phone, asking for him.

“Hey, is this Taeyong?”

It’s a pleasant feeling, hearing Johnny’s voice again. He’d forgotten how soothing it was, and it’s remarkable how his voice retains that quality even over the usually tinny, harsh filter of the phone line.

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s me. I’m guessing this is the _master photographer_ Johnny?” Taeyong takes pleasure in the light chuckle that emits from the other end of the line.

“Yeah, I managed to clear some time in between all these massive shoots I’m doing to call you.” Taeyong can hear the way Johnny’s lips must be curled up at the corners, and lets out a giggle himself.

“So I saw a poster for a local garden crawl in June? It made me think of you, and… you’re probably going anyway, but we could hang? If you want?” There’s a poorly concealed hint of hesitation in his voice and Taeyong finds it cute, how he’s asking him like this when it’s obvious Taeyong is going to say yes.

Of course, he’s going anyway, but the thought of Johnny coming with him, keeping him company and inevitably taking countless pictures in the process… it’s cute. Really cute. Taeyong’s glad this conversation is over the phone because he can’t control the dumb, wide smile that spreads across his face.

“Sure!” he replies with. His voice goes a little squeaky, the way it does when he gets excited. It’s definitely not the smoothest moment of his life. “I’d love that. I’m usually stuck talking with little old ladies,” he laughs, and the slightly lower chuckle he gets from Johnny, so close to the receiver it feels like he’s right there next to him, makes him feel a bit giddy and extremely grateful.

“Oh, I don’t know if I’ll fit in with such a cool crowd,” Johnny says with a smile in his voice, and Taeyong assures him he should be just fine, as long as he compliments their baking skills if they offer him a cupcake.

The conversation goes on a little longer - Johnny tells Taeyong how he got the rest of his photos developed and they turned out really great; he’ll show them to him sometime.

Taeyong twirls the telephone cord around his fingers, doesn’t tell him that he keeps the polaroids from that day tucked inside his treasured encyclopaedia of flowers, pressed between _Sunflower_ and _Sweet Pea_.

(He’d pin them up on his bedroom wall, but there’s something about the subtle, artful intimacy of them that he’d rather keep to himself. In addition, having pictures of himself and an unknown boy up on display would only provoke questions from his parents that he’s not quite ready to answer. Until then, he’ll pour over the snapshots of their mini photoshoot privately, and he thinks it’s the nicest secret he’s ever kept.)

They exchange goodbyes, Taeyong reluctant to stop listening to Johnny’s voice. It’s with a promise of seeing each other soon that they end the call, and his chest feels significantly lighter than it did earlier that day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise one day i'll write a proper kunyong fic. but for now no one can stop me writing them as soft bffs
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/xprettyboys)   
>  [curiouscat](http://www.curiouscat.me/xprettyboys)


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

 

Over the next few weeks, Johnny makes a couple more appearances in Taeyong’s everyday life, each just as unexpected as the first. The week after their phone call, Taeyong goes to do his food shop around midday and as he rounds the corner of the bread aisle, he’s met with a familiar figure. He’s not paying enough attention to notice anything but the boy’s height at first, but something compels him to do a double-take at his face. Then it registers that it’s Johnny – his reappearance in a different setting is somewhat of a relief for Taeyong, who had started to believe their first encounter might have been just a dream.

But Johnny definitely is here, his presence solid under the bright, artificial light of the grocery store. He looks the same, wearing a similar obscure-band-t-shirt-and-jeans getup, except this time he’s holding a shopping basket in his hands instead of a camera.

Johnny must spot Taeyong lingering in the corner of his eye because he quickly turns and smiles, eyes lighting up in recognition as he says hi.

Johnny asks him how he’s been, how his flower picking is going. Taeyong replies that he hasn’t done much since the last time they met, focusing more on his artwork and reading up for his dissertation next year.

Johnny grins lopsidedly and makes a comment about how much of an exemplary student Taeyong is, but then adding on an afterthought –

“I was thinking of going to the beach later, if you’re free you could totally come with?” Taeyong’s eyebrows raise at the offer, flattered at the thought of Johnny wanting to hang out with him again so soon. He wonders if Johnny is this friendly with everyone.

“Oh, really? I don’t want to intrude on anything…”

Johnny laughs lightly and shakes his head.

“You won’t be intruding on anything. I just wanna see if I can get some cool shots.”

 

 

They agree on a time and place to meet – two hours later in the town square, more or less an equal distance from their houses at the opposite ends of town -  and Johnny picks him up in his car.(It’s his dad’s, technically, and it’s a little run down but Johnny thinks it gives it character.)

It’s barely a ten-minute drive to the beach. Taeyong spends that time with his arm stretched out of the window, the temperate wind blowing through his hair, making it dance as he looks out at the passing greenery.

They don’t talk much during the drive, content with the comfortable silence permeated only by the slightly static-y radio, one familiar tune playing that Taeyong recognises as _Wonderwall_. Johnny sings along quietly to parts of it and Taeyong smiles to himself.

 

 

The beach isn’t that crowded when they arrive – apart from the odd elderly couple and a bunch of people walking their dogs, it’s pretty quiet. It’s the early afternoon on a weekday - most people still in work or school at this time - but nobody’s told the sun that; its rays beating down on the golden-brown sand and glittering across the gentle waters.

Johnny takes a few pictures capturing the scene, laughing at a dog that runs into one of his shots and launches itself into the sea right as the shutter clicks.

In place of flowers, Taeyong busies himself with collecting shells. They’re equally as impressive and pretty in their unique shapes and colours, scattered and embedded along the golden sand, a few with pearlescent sheens which glint in the sunlight.

He’s brushing the sand off a white and lilac-banded shell when he notices the sound of shoes scuffing against rock along with the background noise of the sea. He looks up to find that it’s Johnny climbing up a load of stones and boulders, presumably to get some arsty shots. Taeyong chuckles softly to himself, amused at the lengths to which he’ll go for the sake of a few cool pictures.

The weathered rocks that border the shore don’t look the safest, a ball of worry settling in Taeyong’s chest as he looks on, seeing Johnny’s feet carefully navigating the rocks like it’s no big deal. He subconsciously pauses his search for the prettiest shells in place of anxiously watching over Johnny, not wanting him to fall or get hurt.

It seems dumb. Maybe. But Taeyong has got that caring instinct in him that always wants to make sure other people are safe, even when he’s not responsible for them. Kun can testify to the amount of times they’ve gone out together and Taeyong gets worried out of his mind about Kun’s whereabouts if he leaves him for even a second.

So he can’t help the way he automatically trails Johnny like a shadow and reaches out, ready to steady him, but he never falls. The wind blows softly through Johnny’s hair - which is slightly messier today - as he lifts his camera to his face and takes a few snaps with an expression so concentrated Taeyong thinks he sees his tongue stick out the side of his mouth for a couple seconds. He can’t help the gentle smile that spreads across his lips, and it’s only when a fly flies invasively close to him that he snaps out of it and has to remind himself that this is _not_ a date, and ogling Johnny is not what he came here to do.

Johnny then climbs back down without incident, and the moment he reaches the ground, he trips over a tiny rock embedded in the sand.

“Shit!”

Taeyong tries to stop him falling but he’s much taller and heavier than him, so it proves ineffective. Johnny rolls onto his back on the sand, takes a second to check his camera is unharmed, then laughs.

Taeyong finds it ridiculous enough that he laughs too, crouches down and helps Johnny shake the sand out of his hair.

His hands linger just a little longer than they have to, Johnny’s eyes focused on his as they glint with amusement, trapping Taeyong in their sparkle for a long moment.

“Get any good shots?” he asks, hands giving Johnny’s hair one last ruffle before pulling away as he sits himself down next to him on the shell-embedded sand.

Johnny grins, nodding as he takes his camera between his hands.

“Yeah, totally worth it.” His expression turns thoughtful, and Taeyong doesn’t miss how his eyes flicker towards him for a second. “Wait…”

It happens in a flash, quite literally, as Johnny raises his camera to his face and aims at Taeyong, totally unprepared as he hears the shutters click a few times in quick succession.

“Hey!” A pleased smirk is revealed on Johnny’s face as he lowers the camera once again.

“Okay, now I’m done.” Taeyong puffs out an incredulous laugh, and tells himself the rapid heat he feels creeping into his face is the fault of the summer sun’s hot rays.

“You’re so dumb.”

 

They walk down the length of the beach for a while after that, Taeyong shows Johnny the shells he’s collected and of course, Johnny finds them fascinating and takes a few snaps of them, spread across Taeyong’s palms.

Johnny treats him to ice cream as they make their way back to the parking lot – the feeling of the soft sand sinking under his feet transitioning into the crunch of loose pebbles, and eventually hard, unyielding tarmac.

 

-

 

“Thanks for inviting me out. I had fun,” Taeyong says with a gentle smile as they pull up to his house. Like always, he’s hit with that fleeting second of nervousness, doubt; did Johnny enjoy it too? Was he just wasting Johnny’s time? But the ball of worry in his chest dissipates almost as quickly as it appeared as Johnny sends him one of those beaming smiles that seems to bathe the interior of his car in a golden glow (or maybe that’s just the sun hitting just the right angle on the windscreen).

“No worries, dude. It was cool to hang out.” There are glints of yellow-gold in Johnny’s eyes too, and Taeyong wonders if he’s wandered into some kind of higher dimension. (He makes a mental note to ask Kun about that.)

“If you’re not too busy, we could hang again sometime soon?” he continues, and Taeyong realises it’s not just the low hum of the engine that’s causing the spread of a slight buzz through his entire body.

“Yeah! Yeah, uh, totally.” _Great job on wording there, Taeyong._

Taeyong decides to make a move to get out of the car before he does anything embarrassing.

“Cool. I’ll call you?”

“Sure!” Taeyong says, feet now planted back on his own drive, hand lingering on the door handle of Johnny’s car after he’s shut it.

They exchange goodbyes before Johnny drives off, leaving Taeyong with a heart-warming smile and a stomach full of butterflies.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i'm supposed to be on a hiatus til at least xmas but i had this chapter written up and who am i to deny the people what they deserve)
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/xprettyboys)   
>  [curiouscat](http://www.curiouscat.me/xprettyboys)


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